


better late than dead on time

by lynne_monstr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Those of Demon Blood, Semi-Sentient Magic, magnus isn't coping well but he's trying his best, post bodyswap, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: In the days after getting his body back, Magnus clings to his magic.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 124
Collections: Favorite Malec Stories





	better late than dead on time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for writer's month back in August 2019 and have finally gotten around to posting it here. Yes, it's another bodyswap aftermath fic. No, I'll never stop writing codas for this plotline.

In the days after getting his body back, Magnus clings to his magic.

Keeping his power so close to the surface is draining, but pleasantly so. It’s the burn of a good, hard workout, a reminder of what he’s capable of.

The saucers of tea he summons to his hand are a balm for the childhood hurts that haunt his waking moments. The blue he calls to his fingers is a steady, grounding presence against itchy skin that feels too tight and lungs too small to fully breathe. Alone in his room, he drops his glamour and faces himself in his vanity mirror. A rush of relief closes over his head at the sight of his own warlock features staring back at him.

It’s only at night when it all falls apart. Using so much magic saps the strength from his body and he can’t fight the exhaustion that pulls him under. He sleeps and he dreams.

He wakes up screaming.

Magnus claws himself upright, the magic he keeps close to the surface sparking from his fingers with nary a thought. It pours from him in waves of red before he realizes he’s not trapped in a cell, not stuck in a body that isn’t his own, not wracked with agony from a rune he shouldn’t be able to bear on his skin. With effort, he pulls the magic back inside but stops before it’s gone completely. He likes the way it simmers beneath his skin. The effect is like being wrapped in a blanket, comforting and familiar. It’s enough to steady his racing heart and deepen his breaths until he no longer feels like he sprinted the entirety of the Manhattan Bridge.

Glancing around the room confirms what he’s come to expect from these episodes. The fancy television that used to hang on the wall is in no less than five pieces. The mirror on his vanity is similarly shattered, along with the china teacup he’d been drinking from this morning. Across the room, there’s a smoking hole in the wall the size of a fireball.

Unbidden, his eyes flick to the bedside table where his phone is flashing with a text message. Magnus already knows what it says. He saw the notification hours ago but couldn’t bring himself to swipe it away.

_> Alexander (11:16pm): Do you want company tonight?_

The text is unanswered.

Guilt wraps around his stomach like vines, but the remnants of his trashed bedroom are enough to reassure that he made the right decision. Losing control next to a sleeping, vulnerable Alec is not an option. The mere thought of it sends his heart racing all over again. Alec wouldn’t understand. He’d probably try to insist that Magnus would never hurt him, or something equally, naively romantic. For all his Shadowhunter ways, he can be dangerously trusting when it comes to the people closest to him.

Magnus would rather strap himself back into that chair in the bowels of the Institute’s holding cells than knowingly put Alec in harm’s way. If that means hurting Alec’s feelings for a few more days, it’s a small price to pay. Magnus will gladly sleep alone. Once he gets himself under control he’ll explain everything.

Getting out of bed, he summons a double espresso from a cafe in Milan and trails a finger across the many books lining the shelves of his office. Half a century ago he’d started playing around with developing a stronger tracking spell. Sometime in the eighties the project fell to the wayside when he’d decided becoming a real estate mogul sounded fun and exciting.

He opens a treatise on the secondary purposes of ley lines and gets to work.

.

The next day, Magnus secures a video conference with a cagey warlock in Chile. It’s not quite a breakthrough in his research, but it sends him down an alternate avenue with enough potential to get his blood up. He loses himself in the thrill of the chase. One day turns into two turns into three.

He hasn’t had this much fun in decades.

The subtle vibration of his phone stills his hand where he’s sketching a series of symbols onto his desk in green sharpie. He can see the screen from where he’s hunched over.

Alec is calling.

A wave of his hand sends the phone careening into his palm with a soft smack. “Alexander,” he says, propping his hip against the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It feels strange to ask that kind of question to his boyfriend, but they’ve been tiptoeing around each other since his near execution and then the fight they’d had about the clave’s right to collect hair samples from Downworlders without cause. Magnus’ recent issues with bad dreams haven’t helped the situation. He doesn’t mention the unanswered text, and hopefully Alec won’t either.

“Oh, thank the Angel. Magnus where have you been? I’ve been texting you for days. I was about to send a team to your house if you didn’t pick up.”

_Oops_ , Magnus mouths to himself, quickly opening the text message app and scrolling through the most recent ones. Apparently the one text message from the other day wasn’t the only one. “I might have got a bit carried away with some spell research,” he admits. In his defense, the last time he got caught up in research, he was single. But that’s a problem for future him to work on.

“A bit carried away.” Over the phone, he can hear the relief under Alec’s fond scoff. “Are you too carried away for dinner?”

Magnus’ stomachs answers for him, growling so loud he’s sure Alec, and perhaps the entire Institute, can hear it over the phone. “Famished,” he answers anyway, echoing Alec from what seems like years ago but is only a few weeks. The thought curls warm around his sternum. It took them several failed starts to get that first date but oh had it been worth the wait.

There’s a slightly awkward pause and then, “I’ve missed you.”

Something deep in Magnus aches at the words. He hasn’t meant to push Alec away but that’s exactly what he’s done. He opens his mouth to try and explain, to somehow sooth the sting of what’s come between them, but what comes out is, “I love you.”

When he hangs up the phone, the pile of all Alec’s missed text messages fill up the screen like an accusation. Magnus texts back a string of heart emojis and goes to pick out a suitable outfit.

He has a dinner date to attend.

They share two bottles of Pinot Nero and more pasta than even a Shadowhunter on active duty can eat. Magnus feels giddy by the time the check comes, and doesn’t protest when Alec pulls him in to lean against his shoulder as they only slightly stumble out of the restaurant. Alec’s weight is comfortable and reassuring and Magnus realizes with a pang that he’s missed this. The warmth of Alec’s body isn’t the familiar protection of Magnus’ magic, but it’s no less potent. He has the sudden urge to burrow himself into Alec and never let him go.

He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he pulls his magic a little closer to the surface so he can feel it rushing in his ears, and wraps his arms around Alec just a little tighter.

It’s a warm summer night and despite it being August, there’s a slight nip in the air that makes their nighttime stroll pleasant rather than stifling. The walk does wonders to sober them up a bit, though they’re still both more than a little tipsy by the time Magnus’ loft looms over them.

It’s a perfect end to a perfect night. Except for how he can feel Alec tense up the closer they get to home.

“Can I come up?”

Magnus halts, and their linked arms jerk Alec to a stop as well. He can’t remember the last time Alec asked permission to enter. Through the slight haze of alcohol, he thinks back to unanswered text messages and missed phone calls, and throwing himself into decades-old projects on a whim.

They pause like that at the door to Magnus’ building, arm-in-arm in the middle of the sidewalk. “You don’t need to ask.”

Alec shrugs in a way that makes him look uncertain. Uncertain of his welcome, or uncertain of his place in Magnus life? “Feels like I do.”

Magnus lets his eyes slide closed and takes the words like a blow. It’s his own fault, he knows. He did this, and the worst part is that there’s a part of him that knew exactly what he was doing when he did it. He knew and he chose not to think about it, chose not to care. When he opens his eyes, it’s to see Alec studying him intently as if he can read the turmoil in Magnus’ face. Who knows, maybe he can. Alec has always been able to read him unfairly well. It’s both endearing and absolutely terrifying.

The time for cowardice is over. Magnus gestures towards the door. “Please come in.”

They ride the elevator to the top floor in silence.

A wave of one hand negates the need for a key and soon they’re standing in the living room, neither making a move to sit or to pour drinks. It’s far more awkward than that time after their first date. Magnus goes to summons two cups of coffee, except his arm is grabbed before he can complete the gesture.

“Magnus, we need to talk. Have I done something wrong?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No.” He pauses, the flaw in his plan glaringly obvious at this point. He doesn’t want to have this conversation even slightly drunk, but he can’t send Alec home without talking about it. Asking him to take the couch would be just as bad, though he knows Alec would do it without question if asked,

Which leaves the one option he’s been avoiding for days.

There’s a large part of him screaming in terrified protest as he says, “Come to bed. We’ll discuss it in the morning.” But the rest of him aches for Alec’s presence by his side, to be wrapped up in his strong and safe arms. He got a taste of what he was missing tonight and he’s had just enough wine to weaken his defenses.

He realizes with sudden clarity that his avoidance of Alec these past few days hasn’t just been for Alec’s safety. It’s because Magnus is weak.

Alec raises an eyebrow, but there’s a relieved smile on his face as he reaches out to cup Magnus’ cheek. Magnus leans in, eagerly accepting the kiss. Alec’s lips are warm and pliant and stained slightly red from the wine. Something deep inside him settles and for the first time, he has hope that this night won’t end in disaster.

Perhaps having Alec by his side will be enough to make the dreams stop.

.

Magnus’ head hits the pillow with the full force of his exhaustion. Behind him, the bed dips as Alec presses himself against his back and slings an arm over his chest. Their legs twine together. Skin against skin, from ankle to chest.

For the first time in days, Magnus is at peace. He’s missed this feeling. He’s missed Alec.

Sleep creeps up on him, nudged along by the adorable snuffling sounds that worm themselves into the cracks in Magnus’ heart. The waking world fades and the magic he keeps so close sinks back towards his bones.

In the same breath his bed becomes a cell and Alec’s arm, an unmovable restraint.

The tidal wave of panic shakes him awake, and only the fact that he wasn’t fully asleep to begin with keeps him from lashing out with all the destruction at his fingertips. Instead, he lays there, paralyzed with visions of what he’d nearly done. With Alec so close and asleep, there’s no way he could have avoided the deadly blast of magic. Beneath the roiling fear is the echo of the almost-dream. The feeling of bile burning his throat as he thrashed in his restraints, the agony rune tearing him apart.

In what’s become an ingrained instinct, he brings a hand to his chest and lets the magic flare up, keeping it cupped close enough to his body so not to wake Alec. The comforting presence of his power is a physical reminder that he’s not back in that place, not trapped in a body with no allies and no magic and no escape.

So much for love being able to conquer his demons.

Sleep is no longer an option for him tonight. Not when his self-control is barely more than a gossamer thread holding the pieces of him together. He clutches his pillow to his chest and concentrates on staying awake. It isn’t difficult, not with the knowledge of how close he’d come to destroying everything in his bedroom, including Alec.

The hours creep past and Magnus keeps his vigil.

What he doesn’t expect is for Alec to sit up in the middle of the night and clear his throat. “I know you’re not sleeping,” he says. “Are you going to keep pretending, or will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Magnus sits up. The coolness of the room hits his bare chest as the covers pool at his waist. He misses Alec’s warm hands on him. “Nothing’s wrong, Alexander. I’m fine.”

The firm silhouette of Alec’s shoulders slump, and Magnus fights off the drag of answering guilt. Fine, he’s a hypocrite. It’s easy enough to tell Alec not to push him away, to talk about his feelings and to let Magnus in. And here he is going against everything he so passionately argued for. He’s self-aware enough to see it. Then again, Magnus has never been fond of following his own advice. _Do as I say_ , and all.

“No you’re not.” In the darkness, the shadow of Alec’s lips turns downward. “You can barely stand for me to hold you. First I thought it was because of before,” he waves a hand to indicate their discussion on the walk home. “But you’ve been on edge the whole night. I could feel it.” Alec swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. His skin glows in the streams of moonlight that peek in from around the edges of the curtains, a long line of pale skin broken only by the dark swirls of his runes. “I’ll take the couch, okay?”

The smart thing would be to let him go. Take the time to carefully plot out what he’ll say to Alexander tomorrow. But Magnus has never been good at doing the smart thing when his emotions have him by the throat.

“Don’t.” Magnus’ voice is raspy, dry from too much wine and too many nights screaming himself awake. “Please don’t go.”

Alec freezes. The large muscles in his legs twitch as if he’s not sure which way they should take him. Finally, he breathes out and turns in place, like his entire body aches to curve towards Magnus and he’s only now allowing himself permission to do just that. He perches his large frame on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor and the other resting bent on the mattress. It’s endearing how he covers himself with the edge of the blanket before turning hesitant eyes to Magnus.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” Magnus starts. Tentatively, he scoots himself closer to edge of the bed, as if any sudden movements might send Alec skittering away.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Alec proves Magnus’ fears unfounded by resting a hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “See?” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth like that proves something. “You’re tense, even now. And the only reason I can think for why that is, is me.”

The words hover in the space between them and Magnus can’t bring himself to refute them.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Magnus.”

Magnus can’t. Alec isn’t right but he isn’t wrong either. It _is_ Alec’s presence troubling him, though not in the way Alec thinks. He can’t seem to find the words, and so he lifts a hand, letting the magic he keeps close blaze up around his fingers.

It lights Alec’s face in tones of cool blue. In the glow of his magic, Alec’s eyes look more green than hazel. Magnus is suddenly struck by the desire to view him in every light, to see every possibility of Alec open up before his eyes. They’ve known each other such a brief time, a flicker of both their lifespans. The future stretches out before Magnus, further than he can see. But first they have to get past this moment.

The thought gives Magnus the courage he needs.

With a small effort of will, the light at his hand turns from blue to a pulsing red. He can feel the difference in his bones, the way the power twirls restless around his fingers, it’s purpose no longer to merely exist but to act. To burn.

He brings his hand to Alec’s face, stopping a hairsbreadth from the faint dusting of stubble just beginning to show. And Alec, his beautiful and trusting Alexander, doesn’t move or flinch. Whether it’s because he doesn’t know any better or because he just doesn’t care about the danger, Magnus can’t say.

“If I touched you right now, my magic would sear your skin off. That’s the nature of this type of spell.”

Alec swallows but doesn’t move away. “Are you going to?”

The words cut, and Magnus barely suppresses a flinch. Have they drifted so far in just a few short days that Alec needs to ask? Or worse, does he think Magnus wants some sort of revenge after what was done to him in that Nephilim cell? A way to make them even in agony given and received.

Something ugly unfurls in his gut at the realization that if he wanted that, Alec wouldn’t stop him.

The magic snuffs out like it was never there. “No.” Magnus breathes the word like a benediction. His palm closes the last of the distance so that he’s touching warm skin. As if on instinct, Alec leans forward, his face pressing into the touch. “Alexander, you can’t think that I would ever—"

“I know,” Alec says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Magnus closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together. “I’ve been having dreams. Every night I’m back there. I’m back there and there’s nothing I can do. Sometimes I feel like I never left. I hate feeling like I did during that time…so—so helpless.” Magnus pauses, unable to look Alec in the eye as he added, “And afraid. I was afraid, Alexander.”

Alec’s arms wrap around him tight and unlike in his aborted dream, they’re the opposite of restraining. They’re safety and they’re home. Magnus lets himself sink into the embrace, even though the reprieve is only temporary.

When he pulls back, he brings the red back to his hands. “I hated not having my magic when I was in Valentine’s body. It made me feel weak.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, Magnus. That has nothing to do with magic, that’s just you.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but false. Magnus isn’t sure how to tell Alec how wrong he is, and so he pushes forward. He raises both hands, displaying the torrent of red fire. “When I wake up from the dreams, it’s always like this.” He wiggles his fingers for emphasis. “And everything around me is in tatters. My credit card has taken quite a hit thanks to all the replacement items I’ve had shipped here. Perhaps I should bill your Institute.”

Something like realization dawns in Alec’s eyes. “You think you’re going to hurt me.” He reaches a hand to cup Magnus’ face, his expression more earnest that Alec has ever seen, save for the first time Alec saw his true eyes. “Magnus, you would never hurt me.”

“Naively romantic,” Magnus scoffs, echoing his earlier thoughts from several days ago. It would be endearing if Alec’s disregard for his own life wasn’t so terrifying. “But that’s not how it works.”

Alec doesn’t rise to bait. “You won’t,” he insists.

“That may be true if I were in control of it. But when I’m not, I won’t risk it. I won’t risk you.” The embarrassment of admitting his control is less than perfect is overshadowed by the frantic need to make sure Alec is hearing him. That Alec understands his magic can be dangerous when it’s not completely under Magnus’ will. That _Magnus_ is dangerous like this.

Before Magnus has time to react, Alec is moving, surging forward to wrap his hands around Magnus’ red-wreathed ones. Magnus’ heart pounds in his ears like an exploding war canon, a denial screeching on his tongue. It’s pure instinct to pull away. Except Alec is gripping him tight enough to move with him.

Red dances between their fingers, and Magnus stares in horror.

But Alec isn’t tense with pain, isn’t shouting or screaming or burning. He’s smiling. Magnus is too busy processing the utter shock to appreciate how it lights up his whole face, even in the red-tinted dark of the bedroom.

Alec squeezes his fingers, then brings each of their joined hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of Magnus’ wrist, one and then the other. “You’d never hurt me. And you said it yourself, your magic is a part of who you are.” He shrugs. “Stands to reason it wouldn’t hurt me, either.”

A lump builds in Magnus’ throat as it registers that Alec in all his naïve romanticism is right. The angry red of offensive magic plays along the pale, scarred skin of his knuckles like it belongs there.

The wonder of it expands in Magnus’ chest so wide that he thinks it might burst, but all he can muster is an awed, “Alexander.”

It should be impossible. It’s not.

And then Alec leans forward and, in a mirror of their hands, presses their lips together. An answering fire roars to life in Magnus’ chest and he responds with a fervor he hasn’t felt since before his world shattered to pieces inside his own summoning circle. He opens his mouth to Alec and lets himself be devoured before the flickering light of his own flames.

Tomorrow, he decides, as Alec guides them down to lay across the bed. Tomorrow he’ll properly yell at Alec for such a dangerous, stupid stunt that could have left him permanently damaged. For now, he’s going to kiss his boyfriend. He’s going to wrap him up in his magic and his arms and he’s going not going to let go.

And then he’ll sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come chat with me!. I'm on [tumblr](https://lynne-monstr.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/LynneMonstr)


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